"Take her below, Jacob, and stay with her until I get there," she told him. Her voice was cold and emotionless and her friend met her eyes briefly before nodding and following her orders without comment. As she turned around to face Samuel she met Jonathan’s eyes where he stood not far from her and found an anger blazing there that nearly matched her own. With a nod of acknowledgement she turned to find Samuel watching her with a strange expression on his face. Morgan turned her attention to the man standing not far from him and felt the anger smoldering deep in the pit of her stomach ignite. Joseph watched her with a cold, smug look on his face and Morgan walked up to him.

"Where do you think you are taking my wife?" he asked boldly. Morgan cocked her head at him for a moment then let her fist fly. Joseph landed on the deck with a loud thump and lifted his hands to his face, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. Morgan crouched down in front of him and answered his question calmly.

"I am taking her away from you, you sick, twisted, bastard." Joseph tried to lash out at her and she slid easily out of his reach before he could hit her. As he tried to shove himself to his feet she grabbed him by the labels of his shirt and dragged him up. "If you ever, ever even think of touching her again I will rip off those parts you cherish most and feed them to you," Morgan ground out. Joseph looked at her in silence then cracked his lips in a bloody smile.

"I’ll dream of that delicious body every night and she will never think of a man again without thinking of me," he said and spat blood in her face. Morgan stared at him then dragged him across the deck. With one huge heave she lifted him up and threw him over the railing, watching him flail in the air for a moment before his body slapped against the water. She turned and walked back over to where Samuel stood watching in astonishment, ignoring the sounds of splashing behind her as she wiped the blood from her face.

"Samuel, I will leave it to your discretion whether or not you fish that jackass from the ocean, but please wait until we are well and truly away before you do," she said firmly. The other captain looked at her for a long moment and she cracked a wry smile at him. "Of course, if I were you I would drop your smallest dingy to him and a waterskin then cut your losses and make for the nearest trade port where you could fill you holds." Samuel nodded slowly and she turned and headed for the railing, easily swinging herself up onto her own ship. Jonathan and the others followed quickly behind and soon the two ships were free of each other and drifting apart. Morgan headed quickly below deck leaving her crew to get them turned around and headed back to port, her thoughts immediately occupied with Allison.

Morgan paused outside her cabin for a moment to calm her jangled nerves then pushed open the door and stepped through. Jacob had pulled the wingback from the corner over next to the bed and he looked at her in surprise. He jumped to his feet as he saw the blood splattered across her shirt and she waved a hand at him.

"It’s okay, Jacob, it’s all his," she said quietly. He stepped out of her way as she moved closer to the bed, his face creased with worry as he looked down at the redhead.

"She ‘asn’t stirred once, Mor’, not e’en when I laid her down." Morgan nodded slowly then patted his arm.

"Go get the men settled, Jacob, and let me tend to her. I’ll let you know how she’s doing later." Jacob nodded reluctantly and quietly left, pulling the door shut behind him with a soft click. Morgan clenched her jaw and retrieved her washbasin, pouring water into it and setting to cleaning up the young woman in her bed. She carefully unwrapped the blanket from her young companion, wincing as she spied the bruises on Allison’s wrists and arms. She sighed softly and gently undressed Allison, grateful that there were no further signs of abuse on the young woman’s body. With absolute tenderness she slipped one of her shirts over Allison’s head and tugged the soft fabric down over the curve of her hips. The bruise on the redhead’s face was the worst of them and Morgan figured that it was that one that had knocked her lover unconscious.

Morgan sat vigil at Allison’s side for a long time waiting for her to stir, occasionally talking to her and smoothing her hair back soothingly. Jacob came down and told her that Samuel had turned the ship about to give them Allison’s things, making it a point to hand her the small puzzle box. Morgan had nodded quietly at him in thanks and flashed him a smile before setting the box on the corner of her desk and returning her worried gaze to the woman still unconscious in her bed. Jacob patted her shoulder reassuringly and left her alone, returning to the deck to let the crew know how the redhead was fairing. The setting sun was painting everything in gold when Morgan took Allison’s hand in hers and rested her head on her arm next to it, closing her eyes in exhaustion, determined to just rest them for a short while.

Isabelle frowned and flashed a worried look at her husband as she heard the front door open and hurried feet beat a path to the parlor where they sat relaxing. She pushed herself to her feet and started towards the archway, stopping as her daughter came running in. George jumped to his feet and hurried to Isabelle’s side as Anne threw herself into her mother’s arms, sobbing.

"Anne, dear, what is wrong?" Isabelle asked. George met her eyes above their daughter’s head, the confusion on his face matching hers. Finally the young woman calmed down and pulled away from her mother, dabbing at her face with a hankerchief. Isabelle decided to try again. "Now, Anne, what happened?"

"I left Henry, Mama, I just couldn’t take it anymore. He was acting all smug and happy with himself and tried to coax me to bed and I just snapped!" Anne looked at her parents apologetically. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to." George reached out and rubbed her back soothingly.

"It’s alright, Anne. I’m sorry that we made you keep the charade up for as long as we did. So what did you say to him?" he asked calmly. Anne sniffed a little.

"I told him that I couldn’t stand him, that I wanted a divorce, and when he said that he wouldn’t let me do that I told him that I knew he was sleeping with that harlot." Anne looked at George and Isabelle with apologetic eyes. "I didn’t mean to tell him that, it just slipped out." Isabelle chuckled softly and hugged her daughter.

"It’ll be fine, sweetheart, don’t you worry." As she said that they heard the front door open again and loud footsteps echo down the hall.

"Anne!! Anne, honey, where are you!" Henry’s voice echoed down the hall before he finally appeared in the archway. "Anne, please, let’s talk about this!" He pleaded, his clothes rumpled and hair mussed. Henry shot a worried look at George and halted halfway across the room.

"Henry, I suggest you go pack your things," George said firmly. Henry frowned at him.

"What do you mean?" He asked. George stepped between him and Anne and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You have two options, Henry. You can either pack your things and take the morning ferry over to the big island, or you can pack, take a horse, and head for the southside of the island and hope your "friends" there will help you out." Henry stood looking at George, stunned, his arms hanging limply at his side.

"I don’t understand what you’re telling me, George," he stammered. George smiled humorlessly.